


Bad Moon Rising

by Cloudiana



Series: Full Moon Fever [4]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora (She-Ra) Needs a Hug, Alternate Universe - Catra is She-Ra, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, F/F, F/M, Horde Adora (She-Ra), Magicatra AU, Protective Scorpia, Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra)'s A+ Parenting, Super Pal Trio (She-Ra), Vigilante Adora, Werewolf Adora, leaves the Horde to be a vigilante
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:14:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28491474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudiana/pseuds/Cloudiana
Summary: It’s a full moon on Etheria tonight.The many werewolves that roam the wilds are preparing to run with the Packs. The Brightmoon Hunters are preparing to search the Whispering Woods for the notorious Beast of the Horde. And every Horde base is full of groggy soldiers pulled onto night duty, scanning the horizon for any sign of the Lone Wolf — Adora, who had once been Hordak’s second-in-command.Little do they know, the Wolf made her way into the base while the sun was up, seeking answers about what happened to her people.All she has to do is avoid anyone who would recognize her. How hard could that be?TLDR; Catra is She-Ra and Horde!Adora is a Werewolf Vigilante.
Relationships: Adora & Scorpia (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra), Kyle & Lonnie & Rogelio (She-ra)
Series: Full Moon Fever [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045827
Comments: 62
Kudos: 172





	1. The Best Made Plans

Adora couldn’t squash the spark of pride that rose up as she snuck into the base she had once conquered for the Horde.Taking the area back from the Plumerians and the Rebellion was one of her finest achievements as a Force Captain. 

It was a clever plan: an attack with just her squad and a handful of others launched under a moonless sky. Every move calculated, every angle considered, every possible complication foreseen and accounted for.

No artillery. No tanks. No handlers. Just her, Scorpia, and dozen cadets with stun prods. Thanks to a well-timed distraction keeping the alliance occupied elsewhere, the place was practically unguarded— not a princess in sight.

She pulled off a perfect victory with minimal resources, minimal risk, and zero casualties . . . on either side.

Shadow Weaver had disapproved of the operation openly, so when Adora went against orders, she was furious enough to take the issue of her punishment to Hordak himself. Predictably, the leader of the Horde had instead praised Adora’s efficiency, and ordered Shadow Weaver to allow the Force Captain more freedom in her operations.

The mask hid the shock on her face, but Adora had gotten pretty good at telling when she was angry over the years. She relished watching her struggle to keep her composure in the throne room. That meeting had been Adora’s first step in becoming Hordak’s second-in-command.

As satisfying as it was to get one over on that manipulative witch, the best part had been the next evening. 

After the dust had settled and her forces had officially secured their foothold, the soldiers at the celebration in the mess hall had toasted their looted Plumerian wine to Adora. 

Not to the Beast. Not even really to the Perfect Force Captain. But to her. 

To Adora.

She would never admit it, but no matter how ashamed she felt about her crimes in the Horde — all the horrors she took part in, all the lives she wrecked, all the homes she destroyed — she couldn’t help but smile whenever she remembered that night. 

The area itself was also beautiful. Plumeria was remote, quiet, humming with hidden life — the total opposite of the Fright Zone. It reminded Adora of her lost home in the Whispering Woods, and more remarkably, it did so in a way that almost didn’t hurt.She was fond of it. 

Not fond enough to stop the Horde industrialization that poisoned it of course. She couldn’t let sentiment slow down her march to Brightmoon.

If the base wasn’t near the site of a different, earlier battle, it would have been her favorite place . . especially after visiting a certain spot on the roof became painful.However, Adora couldn’t ignore the constant sting radiating from the claw marks that scarred her back from shoulder to hips. 

It was probably for the best. The pain and the pride combined let her “get into character,” as a certain theatrical contact, who had been responsible for the distraction that night, would say.With the helmet covering her face and the Horde armor fully covering her body, a confident, purposeful stride and straight posture were all she needed to look like someone who belonged on that base.

Force Captain Adora was now a disgraced fugitive — wanted by the Alliance for her crimes and by the Horde for her desertion . . . and for her other crimes— the “good” ones. The Beast hadn’t been seen in months, much to Etheria’s relief.Instead, it was the Lone Wolf of the Whispering Woods who came by to relieve the guards of their shift. On a full moon, none of the guards expected her to appear before nightfall. 

And when moonrise came, and her real mission was finished (the one that required opposable thumbs and the ability to think in the future tense), the Lone Wolf would appear inside the base like a phantom, do as much damage as possible, and then escape into the woods without a trace. Even her fully shifted, full-mooned brain could take care of that part of the plan. 

It would make a good story. 

The kind of story that would spread through the Whispering Woods— putting villages at ease, putting the Rebellion and the Horde on notice, and sending a message: that the Lone Wolf was a force to reckoned with. She would protect the civilians who dwelled there and get justice for her home — no matter the cost.

And as long as she didn’t have to talk to anyone, no one would be the wiser until moonrise, when the Lone Wolf made her grand appearance.Or Phase 3: Step Bravo as she had called it on the cork board back at her den.

She kept her mind on the strings, notes, and sketched blueprints as she marched through the courtyard. The dark orange sky cast long shadows across her path. Winter was on its way out, but it wasn't going without a fight. The depths of the Whispering Woods were still covered in snowdrifts, but the Horde refused to let seasons get in the way of efficiency. The courtyard had been swept clean, and the sun had cleared away most of the frost hours ago. The only clear proof of winter was the strong chill in the air. One that would only grow once the sun set.

_Good. The guards should be shivering. IN FEAR. . . OF HER. Ok, That one still needs some workshopping, but it has potential._ There was a good reason Adora did her best intimidation when she was a giant wolf who couldn’t talk.

The cold wouldn’t bother Adora, of course; it hadn’t all winter, even if she spent the last few months in a cave with just a wool blanket to keep warm. As a wolf, she’d always been hot-blooded. According to her old bunk mate, she was the best space heater in the Fright Zone.

She pushed the memories from her mind, and took in her surroundings. As she expected, only a skeleton crew was up and active. 

After the last full moon, all night patrols had been doubled. Given state of the sky tonight, even more cadets probably got assigned to the late shift. The reshuffle made daylight hours an easy target. And, of course, the Horde didn’t expect her to take advantage of it.After all, no matter how smart the Force Captain had been, there was no way she could pull off any plan more complicated than "smash" on a full moon. 

Adora always loved proving them wrong.

As she counted the armored soldiers milling about the perimeter trying to look busy, she took in the lasting damage from the attacks. The mostly empty courtyard still filled with giant vines from the initial battle with the princesses, even though a full year had passed since then. 

That battle had been one of the first where She-Ra joined the fray, and the one where the Horde-at-large first learned what Adora had discovered at Thaymor — that She-Ra and the recent defector, Catra, were one and the same.

_So, the loyal guard dog kept protecting the traitor?_ An inky voice from her memory crooned. _Even after she abandoned you? You must really care for that princess._ She felt the ghost of a hand grip her cheek. _Pathetic._

Adora hurried through the doors into the main base, away from the reminders. She bit her lip, thankful for her stolen helmet, and the steel door slammed shut behind her. _No. Not now. Focus. Think about the cork board. Stick to the plan._

One of the things Adora liked about her new life as a vigilante was being able to visually map out her missions. Back in the Horde, she had to keep her cork board hidden in the closet of her officer’s quarters. With the exception of Scorpia, who loved to contribute little drawings, and Entrapta, who immediately pulled out a recorder and asked for productivity tips, everyone who saw evidence of her planning process got . . . uncomfortable; even if they thought the resulting plan was solid. 

It was nice to just do things her way without worrying anyone would think she was crazy. Or a massive dork. Or both.

Hiding her cork boards was a practice borne more out of practically than pride, though pride had a lot to do with it too. When everyone in the Horde knew she spent each full moon either in a cage or with a shock collar around her neck, the Force Captain couldn’t afford to have anyone laughing at her. 

As if on queue, a rough round of laughter echoed out of the mess hall as she passed by.“Ok, I could have phrased that better,” a familiar, high pitched voice protested, “but it wasn’t that funny! I can salvage this.”

“You used twelve negatives in a row,” Lonnie shot back, “just to explain why the blonde werewolf who showed up after Adora deserted isn’t Adora. . . and yet also is? Look, Kyle, I saw her the scar on her neck during her last rampage. I saw her eyes. It’s Adora. You lost. Pay up.”

“No! It’s simple!” He attempted to explain. “If they used their magic to wipe her mind, then she’s a different person — _philosophically speaking_. I mean how else could the princesses get her join the Rebellion when Catra couldn’t?” He put special emphasis on that name. Adora clenched her fists so hard she thought her fingers would snap. “Has to be a magic mind wipe. Q.E.D. It’s not Adora, and I won the bet.”

Rogelio chimed in. Adora picked up every other word. Lots of them were “Lone” in various skeptical tones. 

“Well, that’s what people are calling her, but maybe we just haven’t seen her working with the princesses. Just because we haven’t seen it that doesn’t mean it’s _not_ happening.” He continued. “Ooh! Ooh! Or maybe they can only control her when she transforms! And the rest of the time Adora’s in a cell somewhere.”

“Then the Lone Wolf would still be Adora,” Lonnie countered, “you’d still be wrong, and you’d still owe me twenty ration bars!”

“But if she’s under mind control,” Kyle argued with the desperation of someone who needed every bar, “then Adora isn’t Adora when Adora is the Lone Wolf! . . . Wait, I want to rephrase that.”

Rogelio rasped something that got a laugh out of Lonnie.

“Et tu, Rogelio?” Kyle declared dramatically. “Et tu?” 

“Pardon me, fellow Horde soldiers, I am but a humble Inspector, but I couldn’t help overhearing your dispute.” She couldn’t quite place the voice, but she’d heard it before. 

“This reminds me of a epic debate I once had with a pirate by the name of Captain Theseus about the nature and identity of his ship.” Maybe he was one of the senior cadets on the Salineas mission? And got promoted to Inspector later?

Adora was curious to hear more, desperate really to just be near a conversation, but she hurried away to the server room. 

She had a mission, and after it was done she’d go back to the woods to plan her next one. It was for the best that she kept to herself.All she had to do was stay away from anyone who would recognize her for an hour. How hard could that be?

Then she opened the door to the server room and came face to face with Scorpia.

\--— 5 years ago —--

“Don’t waste any painkillers on her, Force Captain,” Shadow Weaver ordered, the dull beeping of the heart monitor underscoring her disdain. “Her kind heal quickly, and regardless the pain will be a good lesson in both obedience and the consequences of failure.”

“She was obeying orders,” the other protested. “My orders. I told her to keep that werewolf engaged while we retreated.”

“And then, she allowed herself to get injured. Her poor performance forced you to divert a squadron to aid in the rebel wolf’s capture, which led to the loss of valuable equipment,” her voice hardened. Adora knew that tone well. “She was clearly holding back in spite of your commands. A misplaced sympathy for her own kind, perhaps?”

“No. She definitely wasn’t holding back. The other wolf was twice her size!” Scorpia sounded desperate. “She kept it occupied long enough for us to regroup and capture it. Adora fought as hard as she could.”

“I have inspected the shock collar, Force Captain. It never activated. The device must have been malfunctioning.” she droned. “So, you’ll forgive me if I believe Adora was lacking in motivation.” 

“The collar was fine, I just never had to shock her. She never lost control or threatened any other cadets or —“

“ _Princess_ Scorpia, your position within the Horde is tenuous enough,” she snapped coldly. “Sticking out your neck for the mutt won’t help it.”

“Umm, y-yes, Shadow Weaver,” She stuttered. 

“Animal handling doesn’t come naturally to everyone,” she said. “It requires a firmer hand than you seem to possess. Adora has so much potential, but with her affliction, it’s honestly a miracle I’ve managed train her as well as I have. Sparing her now just means more pain in the future.” She let the promise hang in the sterile air. “Do you understand?”

Silence. Scorpia nodded.

“Good. Then, in light of your family’s past loyalty to the Horde,” she continued, “I am willing to overlook this failure of command, but only this once. 

“My apologies,” Scropia said quickly. “It won’t happen again.”

The pain radiating from her back dominated Adora’s thoughts, as she laid on her side with her back to the officers. She could barely process their conversation, or even notice when Shadow Weaver glided out of the medical bay. 

She knew she deserved the pain, though.

It had been her first fight with another werewolf, an unexpected complication in their raid on a local Plumerian village. It had been her chance to prove herself; to show the Horde why they should keep her around. And she failed. She let the wolf maul her within an inch of her worthless life.

_Traitor_ , it had spat, the fully shifted Adora somehow getting the message loud and clear from the white wolf’s body language alone. When Adora had charged forward to attack, the other wolf effortlessly grappled her. The brawl ended with both standing at their full heights — the other wolf’s jaws sank into her shoulder as it ripped open her back. 

If it wasn’t for Scorpia, she wouldn’t have made it out of that fight. Instead, the newly-minted Force Captain had managed to stun the rebel wolf with her stinger. Then, the two of them managed hold it off long enough for reinforcements with stun nets to arrive. 

She flinched when she felt her pincer rest on her bandaged shoulder. _One handler was nice to you_ , Adora growled at herself. _And you got in her in trouble. Great job, mutt._ She tensed, waiting for the rebuke.

“Your first mission as a Force Captain,” Scorpia whispered so quietly that without her wolf senses Adora wouldn’t have heard it. “And you get a kid mauled. Great job, Princess.” 

Scorpia cleared her throat and spoke in a normal volume. “Cadet Adora, you did fine out there last night. You fought hard and kept a lot of people safe, myself included. Good job.”

Adora realized that she must have suffered a concussion. She was clearly hallucinating. 

“And don’t worry about what Shadow Weaver said,” the hallucination continued. “I’ll find a way to get around her on this, I promise. You just get some rest.”

Some time later, Catra appeared with a pack of morphine tablets. Apparently, Scorpia had gone into the cadet barracks, where her squad was resting from an unrelated wilderness training mission, and loudly proclaimed, “If any of you were thinking of sneaking into the sick bay, taking the key from under Imp statuette on Cpl. Bones’ desk, stealing painkillers from the locked cabinet on the third shelf, and giving them to Adora in Room 223 . . . then don’t. Oh, and while you aren’t doing that, make sure to grab Naloxone from the second drawer on the right. Safety first.” 

“Honestly,” Catra scoffed as she measured out a dose. “If she can make Force Captain, anyone can.”

* * *

“Oh, uh,” the tenor voice broke Adora out of the memory. “Hi there soldier, I was just . . . checking to make sure the servers were still here.” She looked behind her. “Yep still here.”

Adora lowered her voice, hoping the helmet would make up the difference. “Of course, Captain. I just need to do some data reentry and confirmation. What with all the shift changes, and . . . armor shortages the records have gotten disorganized.”

“Oh yeah,” she blushed and rubbed a pincer on her back. “Sorry about that. Hordak’s been breathing down my neck after what happened at the prison ca— I mean the motivated-worker mining facility last full moon and I got a bit sloppy with the reassignments.” She sighed. “Just do your job, and get some rest. We can’t have the Rebellion catching us off-guard.”

As she was leaving, Adora couldn’t stop herself from calling out. “Umm Captain Scorpia.” She turned. “The shift changes have been efficient as could be expected in the circumstances,” it had been months since she’d used her officer voice, but it still did the trick. “Thank you . . . and uh— good job.” Adora fired off a crisp salute and marched into the server room before the officer could respond. 

When Adora went to switch on the console, she discovered it had been left on. Apparently Scorpia had been on an anonymous video call. Adora could guess who had been on the other end.

The Super Pal Trio — the one thing about the Horde she missed. The three allies settled on the group nickname after Scorpia insisted they have one. Adora liked the idea; she thought it would be a practical way to hide their secret, triple alliance in plain sight. However, she got outvoted on the name. According to Entrapta, “The Conspiracy to Backstab, Overthrow, and Replace Shadow Weaver” was too obvious and unwieldy.

Besides, Scorpia had already made them matching team pins.

Adora never really let her guard down around them. She couldn’t figure out what they needed from her. At first, Adora assumed it was simple. Entrapta had switched sides in the first place for the chance Adora offered her to freely mess with more First Ones tech (and something about observing how a werewolf deprived of typical canine social conditioning behaved), so obviously she just needed free access to the Black Garnet.Scoripa clearly needed someone who owed her a few favors to replace Shadow Weaver as second-in-command. They needed the Beast to get those things, so they tolerated Adora. 

That all tracked. 

But, even after Shadow Weaver was powerless and shackled in a cell, they still wanted to spend off-hours with her; just hanging out, talking, playing board games. The best she could figure was that they needed social interaction from her. Adora was the only person who could give Entrapta a run for her ration bars at chess. Scorpia needed someone to talk to who understood what it was like to have a section in Force Captain Orientation explaining why you were the exception to the rule — the only princess who wouldn’t accidentally vaporize you; the only wolf who wasn’t planning on eating you in you sleep.

But sometimes, it seemed like they just wanted to be frie— _No. Don’t go there. Even if they were offering you a hand, you probably just would broken it._

Adora had already wasted enough time daydreaming. Soon, the moon would be up, and she wouldn’t be able to hold back her transformation. She could already feel her blood start to boil. She had less than a hour — but that was plenty of time for someone who was very familiar with Horde security protocols. 

She clicked in the passwords her contact had provided and began flicking through the menus. Cross-referencing the keywords “Whispering Woods” “Unidentified Settlement” and “Packs” got her the results she was looking for: over a terabyte of encrypted data. Months ago, right before the full moon that would make her a fugitive, Catra had tried to tell her something at Princess Prom (another well-executed operation, though that memory carried more mixed feelings). She had dismissed it as another attempt to manipulate her into forgetting what she had witnessed with her own eyes. Apparently, the Horde hired Pack mercenaries to destroy her home in such a way that they gained no tactical advantage; oh, and the Brightmoon crest brands were just proof that the wolves were really Brightmoon's enemies. There was more to the story than that, but truth be told, she had been too busy carrying out a heist/kidnapping to really listen to Catra. _Also that tuxedo . . ._

But Adora had been wrong about so much. Catra was the prime example. Just days after the prom - after everything she had done - after she'd hurt her countless times - when Adora was weak, alone, and completely at her mercy, did Catra do what Adora would have done if their positions were reversed? Did she drag her back to Brightmoon? Did she leave her for the Hunters? No. 

She gave her a duffle bag of supplies. She gave her a second chance. She let her become the Lone Wolf.

So, she owed it to Catra to at least check. If the Rebellion really was innocent, the proof was in these files.  _If turning her back on Catra at Thaymor really was the worst mistake of her life . . ._

It would take hours to pour through the data. Fortunately, thanks to a few well placed transmitters, she was able to transfer the data to a repaired, reactivated terminal in an abandoned Horde outpost a few miles south, deep in the woods.

It took over half an hour to transfer the files. A physical transfer would have been quicker, but there was a slim chance that the pad would survive her dramatic exit.Now, all Adora had to do was wipe the record of the transfer, find a better place to transform, and let the wolf do what she did best.

Then, she had a thought. No matter how well she covered her tracks, with Entrapta on their side the Horde would figure out what she had done eventually. This was probably her only chance to get full access. The more sensitive files might even be deleted if Hordak thought they were too dangerous to keep around. _So anyone else the Horde had lied to would never . . ._

Against her better judgment, Adora transferred a few dozen more files. It took more time that she didn’t have — twenty agonizing minutes. She had to yank off her boots as the progress bar neared completion. They were tightening already. She’d shifted through armor before on a dare. It was unpleasant, and she had the lacerations to prove it. The chest plate had to go too, but Adora hoped to keep the helmet on for as long as possible.

Fortunately, she could keep the standard red and black uniform underneath the armor on. She knew it would still be there when she shifted back. Entrapta had explained how that worked once —something about concentrated lunar magic fields causing temporary molecular realignment that affected the fabric.The scientist had even figured out a way to make her old pauldrons morph and stay strapped to her haunches. 

Repairing the pieces of Beast armor that she had wrecked in her escape from the Fright Zone was one of her favorite side projects. She could lose herself in tinkering for hours at a time. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d woken up from a nightmare and drowned out what she’d seen by restitching straps until dawn.

There wasn’t time to think about that. Thinking was getting harder. The console pinged. _Good._ A few keystrokes and all evidence of her transfers vanished. 

Adora had to get out of that server room. She was going to lose control soon, and she wasn’t sure the giant, bipedal wolf she’d soon become would be able to fit through the door. If people looked sideways on the solider dashing through the hallways, well, thanks to the helmet, maybe they’d just assume Kyle was being Kyle again.

Before she could test that theory, the door swooshed open, and two armored Horde soldiers appeared behind it. They weren’t expecting her. For a second, she panicked, but when they just stood there staring at her, she remembered that she was still wearing the helmet. They hadn’t recognized her. 

Instead, they were just waiting for this solider to explain why they were barefoot, but helmeted, standing by a pile of discarded armor, in the server room. 

Adora could still salvage this.She just had to play it cool.

“Whaaat?” She stammered. “This isn’t the locker room. Yeesh! My bad.” she stretched her arms up and faked a yawn. “I tell you these shift changes have been murder. I’m just out of it. You know what I'm talking about, right guys?” They looked at each other. Who knows what expressions the helmets were hiding. “Anyway, I better just get back the barracks and let you two get to work.”

Instead of moving to let her pass in response to that flawless performance, the shorter of the two soldiers pulled out a stun prod and pressed it against her throat. “Alright, Horde scum, I don’t care what you were doing in here, but here’s what going to happen,” a distressingly familiar voice grunted. 

_ Oh Stars, not these people. _

“You are going to get us into that terminal,” she continued, “and transfer all the info the Horde has on Halfmoon and the First Ones onto this tracker pad for us. Got it?”

In response, Adora ripped her helmet off and rolled her eyes, already glowing with moonlight. “Seriously?” She growled at the stunned rebels. “You have the worst timing, Princess.” 

And Adora had the the worst luck.


	2. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora confronts old enemies and allies as the Rebel attack on the Horde's base in Plumeria goes from bad to worse.

  
Princess Glimmer of Brightmoon was rarely speechless, but this sight knocked the words right out of her. Seeing Adora alone was a shock. She’d spent the last few months as little more than a few scattered rumors. Then, there was her appearance. The woman at the business end of her stun prod wasn’t the clean cut, polished Force Captain who she expected to see. Instead, short, dirty blond hair, half-up half-down, framed her thinned face. The edges looked like she sawed them off with a dull knife. A heavy sheen of sweat clustered around her brow. A set of three claw marks ran across her jaw, a gift from Catra at the All-Princess Ball a few months ago. Most striking were her eyes — glowing blue instead of near gun-metal grey.  
  
But it was still Adora, so Glimmer didn’t stay speechless for long.  
  
“You have the worst timing princess,” she growled. “I won’t be able to hold back the wolf much longer and disrupting whatever ‘Night at the Improv’ mission you Rebels have going on this week isn’t my job anymore, so how about you—“  
  
A sharp shock from the stun prod cut her off as Glimmer shoved her into the bare wall by the closed door. The princess removed her helmet and pressed the stun prod back against her throat. The sound of heavy boots hitting metal floors rang dully from the corridor outside. “Give me one good reason,” she whispered harshly, “why I shouldn’t set this thing to max and let you wake up in one of this base’s cells once we’ve taken it back for the Rebellion.”  
  
Bow, having removed his own helmet by this point, could have sworn he saw a flash of fear cross the ex-Force Captain’s face, but it passed quickly, replaced by confusion. “If you’re taking the base anyway why are you downloading the data now?”  
  
“Because,” Bow explained, “the Horde set up an automatic purge protocol in its server rooms.” He started trying to boot up the terminal. “Which we found out the last time we tried this.”  
  
“So,” the wolf muttered. “Entrapta finally worked out the bugs on that one. Good for her.” Glimmer jabbed the stun prod closer, pushing her chin up. The prongs bit into her throat, but she just smirked and turned to Bow. “Techmaster,” she said coolly, “the access codes in this sector for Class-1 Sensitive data are Alpha-9, Beta-3, Omega-6. You want the decryption key once it’s downloaded? Then you let me walk free and clear.”  
  
“Ha!” The princess taunted. “How dumb do you think we are?”. Adora’s smirk vanished. “There’s no one left on Etheria who trusts you. Try again.”  
  
A short buzz from the princess’ communicator saved Adora from trying to answer. “Winter’s Bane to Glitter Bomb, A-Team has a situation here.”  
  
Glimmer groaned as she unbuckled the radio from her uniform belt. “Frosta, what did we say about giving people new code names mid-mission?”  
  
There was another burst of static. Muffled shouting and heavy banging could be heard on the other end. “Keep the door iced, Frosty, I’ll tell them,” a new voice crackled out. Adora looked like she could be knocked over with a feather. “Sparkles, half the Horde just walked out into the courtyard and we’ve got a new patrol trying to relieve this guard tower early. We’ve got to move now. Do you have the data?”  
  
Adora glared at her captors. “Did you seriously,” she spat out through grinding teeth, “forget about the changes to the night shift? It’s a full moon, princess.”  
  
It was Glimmer’s turn to glare. “Why would a full moon change their schedule? Seems more likely that this is one of your traps—“  
  
Adora doubled over with a strangled cry, wrapping her arms around her abdomen. The ends of her fingers began to twist into black claws. Blonde fur sprouted from the backs of her hands and started spreading rapidly up her arms. Her uniform ripped at the seams as her muscles rapidly expanded. When she looked up, her glowing eyes were bloodshot with silver. “You want to take this base? You want to save her? You want to know why the moon has them all scared?” Her voice had dropped an octave. “Then step aside, and let me do what I do best.”  
  
Less than a minute later, the Lone Wolf burst out of the main base, and all hell broke loose.

* * *

  
Catra could hear Adora’s voice in her head as she dodged another blast from a stun prod. She’d been on the receiving end of enough post-simulation lectures to imagine what she’d be saying as the plan fell apart.  
  
“Why didn’t you scope out the base more before the mission?” She lassoed a tank gun and turned it on another piece of artillery.  
  
“Why didn’t you run through more crisis scenarios with Light Hope?” She morphed the Sword back into its normal form - a bronze scimitar with a fiery gem in the hilt.  
  
“Why did you allow for a suboptimal team member distribution?” She rushed to cover Frosta and Perfuma as another tank threatened to corner them, covering half the courtyard in less than a second. Catra had always been fast, but She-Ra was a blur.  
  
“According to this flow chart, this all could have been avoided. Stop laughing at the flow chart, Catra. It’s helpful! Respect the chart!” A blast from one of the tower turrets hit her square in the chest, knocking her back several feet — herding her into the center of the courtyard. Another blast caught Perfuma in the side. She hit the ground hard.  
  
The plan had been simple. Glimmer and Bow would sneak into the base, get the info on Halfmoon and the First Ones so they could figure out how a whole city — palaces, people, and technology included — could vanish into thin air, leaving one orphane, abandoned kit behind for the Horde to snatch. At the same time, Mermista and Sea Hawk would “inspect” (read: sabotage) as much hardware as they could before the assault. Then, once Sparkles and Arrows gave the signal, Catra and heavy hitters on the A-Team would attack from the courtyard, drawing out the base’s forces only for the infiltrators to attack from where the Horde least expected, and drive them out.  
  
But, of course, everything went wrong. Now, half of the Alliance was surrounded by Horde soldiers, and the other half wasn’t responding. “Frosta,” she shouted to the twelve-year old. “Throw up a barrier. I’ll heal Perfuma.” The princess had an ice bubble up in seconds. She knew things were serious when Catra dropped the nicknames.  
  
As she knealt by her injured friend, she tried all the tricks she had taught her for clearing her head. She Ra needed to be at peace to heal, and the situation was not exactly bringing out her most positive vibes. She took a deep breath as the shining sword hovered out before her. _Just trust Frosta to keep you safe. Trust your friends to get here in time. Trust yourself to — Arrgggg._ The sword faltered. _That’s too many people to trust! I hate trusting._ _  
_  
Catra closed her eyes and forced herself to focus. Steady breathing. Positive thoughts. Just like Perfuma taught you. The sword’s glow overtook her senses. Catra felt an overwhelming warmth, like her blood was suddenly lighter, blossoming from her heart and pouring into her friend. As she felt the princess’ strength returning, in the back of her mind, she thought she heard a wolf’s cry — just like the one she heard early this morning when she was trying to sleep. She could almost pretend the wolf it belonged to was right there, covering her.  
  
As she came out of the magic haze, she realized that the howl was more than good mediation. All around her, the screams of soldiers, dulled by the ice dome, rang out. The ice distorted their view, but there was no mistaking the rampaging golden figure outside.  
  
The Horde soldiers had heard horror stories about Adora long before the wolf had deserted; hell, long before Catra had found the sword. “I heard she’s really a spy for the Packs.” “I heard that she has to get special ration bars with blood in them to keep her from going feral.” “I heard she went berserk once and clawed out Captain Octavia’s eye.”  
  
Catra’s favorite rumor was that Adora stalked the halls of the Fright Zone at night and ate cadets who snuck out of their barracks. She had started that one herself to keep the halls clear of anyone who might interfere with their pranks. As a squad, they had all laughed about those stories after lights out. Anyone who spent time with Adora knew she was a goofy, well-meaning dork. Adora played along, laughing with the rest at the ridiculous rumors, but Catra noticed the way she tensed up whenever the jokes started. It got worse after she started going out on missions every full moon. After she joined the Rebellion, and learned the stories they had heard about the Beast, Catra understood why.  
  
Needless to say, when the Lone Wolf burst into the courtyard — eight feet tall, standing on her hind legs, with only a pair of ripped shorts to suggest she was ever human — the soldiers that didn’t sprint for the gates turned their attention away from the princesses. That gave the trio the opening they needed. Frosta shattered the dome, sending chunks of ice barreling into the few remaining soldiers. Perfuma, still recovering, managed to reanimate some of the vines left behind from their first assault.  
  
As the Lone Wolf rushed towards the tanks, the lucky operators bailed out of the cockpits. The unlucky ones soon found themselves stranded on top of wrecked guard towers. As Catra zipped around the battlefield, her sword a stinging flash of light, she couldn’t help but cackle. She’d heard the rumors, but seeing Adora toss Horde tanks around like training dummies was something else. Then, right on cue, the rest of the Alliance charged out of base, and the Horde wilted.  
  
For a few brief moments, Catra lost herself in the ebb and flow of the battle. There were few times in her life when things had felt so solid, so right: when she first raised the sword, when she first met the scared blonde girl in the infirmary, when she joined Bow and Glimmer for a raid on the Brightmoon kitchens her first night at the palace. And now this. Because here she was — strong, powerful, fulfilling her destiny, protecting her friends, and fighting on the same side as Adora.  
  
Deep down, Catra knew it wouldn’t last. These moments never did for her. Soon, there’d be a hitch. But she’d learned to push down the bitter bile in the back of throat and relish these moments while they lasted.  
  
In between her rapid dashes, she heard that cute Force Captain (Lobstera was it?) calling on the troops to fall back and scatter. But she stood firm at the gates, covering the retreat. Catra grinned as she approached her, still riding the high of the fight. “So, how’s this going to work?” She laughed. “You’re going to fight She Ra, and the all the princesses, and . . . what are you calling Adora these days? The Lone Wolf?“ The Force Captain flinched at the mention of that name. “All by yourself?“  
  
“No,” she responded surprisingly coolly, drawing something from behind her back. “You’re going to do that for me.” With a speed even She Ra couldn’t react to, the Force Captain whipped a red disc straight at her. Catra almost dodged at the last second, but the disc homed in on the runestone in the hilt like a magnet. Her whole body seized up. Suddenly, she felt like a little kid cowering in the corner of a dark chamber in the Fright Zone. Something hot and burning spread from her hand — into her veins and through the rest of her body like lightning.  
  
Then, everything went red.  
  
Looking back, Catra would wonder if this was how Adora had spent all those full moons in the Horde — shaking, burning, unable to feel anything but harsh, chocking, broken rage. To her heightened senses, everything with a pulse was a insult — buzzing in her ears. When they kept on shouting, talking, breathing, it all hurt worse.  
  
She needed to shut them up.  
  
She Ra rushed at them. They dodged, threw up shields, tried to entangle her, but she was relentless. Finally, she had something cornered. Through the haze, she couldn’t see who it was. Even if she could, She Ra wouldn’t care. She raised her sword to strike, but as the blade sailed down a hulking mass of fur and fangs tackled her.  
  
She clawed her way out the grapple and faced the creature. It backed away, snarling at her, daring her to follow. All her rage laser-focused on this thing that dared attack her. She Ra charged.  
  
She would make it pay.  
  


* * *

  
The monster pursued her deep into the woods, away from anyone who could get hurt. Good. The wolf didn’t want anyone to get hurt, even the Magic Ones. She was tired of getting people hurt.  
  
It was hard fighting the monster. Harder than usual. Every time the wolf got close to clawing or biting her, she hesitated and the monster dodged. Her feelings were complicated, and the wolf couldn’t process those types of feelings well.  
  
The monster was angrier than she usually was too. Normally, the golden, shiny monster who replaced her friend would talk and taunt endlessly as they fought, like it was trying to imitate her friend’s constant, cutting, comforting chatter.  
  
Now, she just hissed. And when she managed to get close enough strike, the sword burned her hide like it was coated in acid.  
  
_The Sword!_  
  
The wolf hated that sword. Pure, uncomplicated hate. It took her friend from her. It hurt her. It made her friend a monster.  
  
As she dodged another swipe from the Sword, the wolf clamped her jaws around the hilt, and ripped it from the monster’s claws. The red veins flashed brightly across her frame. She jerked violently in time with the flashes, clutching her head desperately. Then they disappeared entirely. Her limp body crunched into the snow when it dropped.  
  
The monster was gone. Her friend was back.  
  
The sword’s sharp edges stung, and the ends of the hilt bit into the roof of her mouth, but the wolf didn’t let go. She had to keep her friend safe. No matter what.  
  
Then, as she kept biting the sword, her head began buzzing. The world turned red. Suddenly, she was angry too.  
  
Friend left her.  
  
Friend hurt her.  
  
Friend was never friend.  
  
_Hurt her._  
  
Before she could make a move, other creatures appeared from the red-tinted woods.  
  
_Enemies._  
  
They were the ones that took her friend from her. They gave her friend the sword that had hurt her, that was hurting the wolf. She was alone because of them.  
  
_Hurt them._  
  
She growled and stalked towards the pair, still clutching the red-pulsing sword in her jaws. The pounding in the back of her skull grew louder.  
  
_Hurt them. Hurt them. Hurt them._  
  
One shot a stick at her. Suddenly, a bright flash blinded her. A sound like broken glass burst near her ears. The same sound again, and then her jaws were empty.  
  
Just as quickly as it came, the rage drained out of her; the red faded from the world.  
  
The wolf was left standing in a clearing, all four paws deep in the moonlit snow, watching her friend lie on her back, barely breathing. She whined, and nuzzled her desperately.  
  
_Wake up. Wake up. WAKE UP.  
_  
The wolf flopped down in the snow, wrapped an arm around her, and laid her head on her chest. _Don’t go away again. Please._ _  
_  
The people were saying something. The wolf ignored them. Her whole world was waiting for that heartbeat.  
  
Slowly, her friend’s chest began to rise and fall at a normal pace. Her eyes fluttered open. “Heeey Aaadoorrrraaa.” The wolf‘s tail wagged so hard it sprained a muscle. She knew that sound. It meant Catra! Usually it was faster, but she didn’t care.  
  
The wolf sprang up and licked her friend’s face. She laughed — that was the wolf’s favorite sound. “Adora,” She slurred. “That tickles!”  
  
She kept licking while the others started talking. “The virus from the disc must have made her loopy too,” yelled the Sparkly One. “Bow, this is perfect!”  
  
“How is this perfect, Glimmer?“ The other one asked as he slowly moved closer. He cautiously put a hand on her back. “Adora, easy.” He spoke in a calm, measured voice. “Let’s give Catra some space to breathe, ok?”  
  
The wolf turned to sniff him. She recognized the man; not enough to pull out a real name, but enough to know he wasn’t her friend. He’d shot a lot of pointy sticks at her. Still, she knew he was Catra’s friend; so, she could trust him around Catra, as long as she supervised. The wolf backed up and let him crouch down to check on her.  
  
“See?” Sparkly One exclaimed. “The Beast of the Horde is listening to us. Obeying us. We can lead her back to Brightmoon, throw her in a cage, and she’ll do most of the work for us.” She turned to the wolf, her voice rising in pitch. “Who wants to answer for her crimes? Who wants to face justice? You do! Yes you do! Come on! Let’s go to Brightmoon! Come on!”  
  
The wolf tilted her head. She didn’t understand some of those words, but she knew going to Brightmoon would be bad. People didn’t like her there . . . or anywhere really. The word ‘cage’ also drove her to take a few steps back.  
  
Pointy Sticks made noncommittal noises as he tried to lift Catra. She was uncooperative. “I don’t know Glimmer. I don’t think Brightmoon even has a prison. Also, your mom might not be happy if we just show up out of the blue with— dammit Catra!” he exclaimed in frustration, “where did your bones go?” In response, Catra giggled, slid out of his grasp like liquid -- leaving her heavy winter coat in his hands—, hit the ground face-first, and started making a snow angel. “Well,” he sighed “at least she didn’t bite me like she did at Dryl.”  
  
“Bow, of course Brightmoon has a prison . . . somewhere. What kind of kingdom doesn’t have any prisons? Besides,” she smiled darkly, “I’m sure the Hunters have something special ready for the Beast.”  
  
Adora’s ears flattened against her skull, and she whined. Hunters were definitely bad. The wolf had a lot of scars from them and didn’t want any more. If Catra wasn’t there, and still acting strangely, she would have bolted right then.  
  
“I thhhink it’s a great idea, Sparkles!” Catra slurred as she leapt up and wrapped an arm around the wolf’s neck. Her furry arm felt good rubbing against her scar. “Adoraaaa shhhould come to . . . to Brightmoon! Then, my princess friends and my wolf friend and my Bow friend can all be friends! And then we can all have sleepovers together!“ She put a claw on the wolf’s wet nose and stage whispered, “juuuust like we use to.”  
  
“Well, that’s two votes to one,” Sparkly One said triumphantly. “Let’s go.”  
  
“Glimmer, I don’t think a cage is going to make Adora more cooperative.” Catra started carding her claws through the wolf’s fur. Paired with the occasional cheek rub, the wolf was suddenly too preoccupied to follow the conversation.  
  
“Maybe it’s better to let her keep being the Lone Wolf,” Pointy Stciks continued. “She’s not hurting anyone. . . . except the Horde, but that’s a good thing. And if the rumors are true, she’s protected a lot of towns in the Woods. Think of it as . . . preemptive community service.”  
  
Sparkly One growled. “And what happens when she decides one of those towns is getting in the way of her revenge? Or comes up with something new to blame us for? Or just lashes out at the wrong time and hurts someone else?” She threw up her hands. “A few months alone in the woods doesn’t erase what she’s done, Bow. Etheria isn’t safe as long as the Beast is free.”  
  
He looked at the wolf, sitting upright, tail beating the snow, watching Catra like a hawk while the Magicat played in the snow and babbled. “Maybe the Beast is gone,” he said quietly. “Maybe she’s changed. I mean . . . this is the second time she’s saved her.”  
  
“This isn’t about the wolf, Bow,” she shouted. “It’s about the monster who’ll come back at sunrise. I was tortured in the Fright Zone on Adora’s orders. You should have seen her in that chamber monologuing about how she would tear us apart one by one; how she would destroy all of of Etheria just to satisfy her twisted vendetta.”  
  
Her voice caught in throat. She screwed her gaze to the ground, pushing back tears. The memory was overwhelming. She could almost feel the red lightening she had ordered that sorceress to restrain her with ripping through her veins. Tearing her apart. “Adora was a monster, Bow,” she finally spat out. “Probably still is. If we let her go, the next person she hurts is on us. If she wants a second chance, if Catra wants to give her one — fine! But it has to be on our terms, not hers.”  
  
The man walked to her silently. Putting one arm over her shoulder, he hugged her close. They could have stood like that forever, but the Horde was still out there. They never seemed to have enough time. “Ok,” he almost whispered. “But keeping her docile means not breaking the disc and keeping Catra sick.” The wolf froze, hair raised, ears at full mast. She knew that word.  
  
“Nooo,” Catra groaned to herself, eyes fixed on the ground. The others were to engaged with each other to hear her. “I hate being sick. Shadow Weaver is gonna be so mad.” She turned to the wolf. “Heeey Adora, can you get me to the vents or something? Need to stay out of sight, right?”  
  
The wolf nodded vigorously.  
  
“Brightmoon’s a bit far to leave Catra like this. I think I saw a silvered cell in one of the blueprints for the Horde base, so let’s head back there and—No! Stop!”  
  
But before they could do anything, Adora was already out of the clearing, sprinting on three legs with Catra cradled in one arm.  
  
“It’s them,” a voice muffled by helmet static barked from the trees. “Surrender, rebels!”  
  
“Get the traitors, we’ll handle them!”  
  
A flurry of sparkles and trick arrows proved the squad leader wrong. But that was cold comfort to the pair. After fruitlessly searching the woods for clear tracks, all they could do trudge back to the ex-Horde base alone.  
  
Once they got there, after a lot of arguing, they came up with an attack plan. Step 1: Smash the disc to give Catra a fighting chance. Even if Adora stopped being loopy, everything they’d heard from their Pack allies led them to believe that “feral” wolves like her, cursed ones who had to work out their powers on their own, couldn’t think straight while transformed. Turning into a wolf didn’t necessarily make her dumber, but it impaired her ability to think beyond first instincts and impulses.  
  
Step 2: With the Horde still retreating, they couldn’t risk leaving the newly conquered base unguarded. Plus, since they didn’t have a solid idea of where Adora would have gone, wandering the woods aimlessly would probably just leave most of them frostbitten. So, Mermista, who could just push snow out of the way, Frosta, who was immune to cold, and Sea Hawk, who was fantastic at setting bonfires, would head back to the clearing to see if Catra returned there.  
  
Step 3: In the morning, they would all go out in force, find Catra, drag the mutt who kidnapped her out of whatever hole she’s hiding in, and lock her in the strongest cell they can find. Most of the last step was phrased by Glimmer, but the others couldn’t disagree with the outline.  
  


* * *

  
As the wolf trotted through the cracked crystal doors of her den, she was very happy with herself. Catra needed a place to stay while she was sick, and  
she had trusted her to keep her safe. _Catra trusts me._ The wolf thought excitedly. _She hates trusting._ _  
_  
Better still, the wolf could show Catra her den. It was the first place that was just hers, and the wolf was very proud of it. It was warm; it had food; and it was safe. Deep down in her primal brain, the part that tapped into the planet’s ancient, chained magic, she knew that no one could find her here.  
  
The wolf set Catra back on her feet and drew back the torn canvas guarding the entrance. She gestured with a giant paw for her to enter first. It felt right.  
  
Catra snorted. “You’rrrre such a dork!” Adora’s tail wagged and she gestured again. “Ok! Ok! Princesses first, I guess.” When Catra passed through the antechamber, she found herself in a large room with high, crystal ceilings, held up by a series of pillars. A ruined chair stood in the center, repurposed into a platform for corkboards. If she looked closely, she would have seen a gold wing pin that she once gave a friend stuck to one of them. In the back, a rusted console had been repurposed into a worktable, covered in bits and pieces of scrap metal. Two rooms were on either side of her — one repurposed into a pantry, the other into the wolf’s nest.  
  
“Hey Light Hope!” Catra shouted. “Ya in here?” The back of the wall buzzed and flashed. The effect died out quickly. “Good!” Catra slurred. “Stay out. This is a sleepover!”  
  
“Aroo?” Was all Adora could manage in response.  
  
Catra laughed again. “Don’t worry, happens to me all the time in First Ones ruins.” She walked over to the corkboard and squinted at a child’s drawing pinned to it. “Hey look, Adora,” She chirped. “Someone drew us!” Adora trotted over to her, delighted that her friend seemed to like the place. “Look,” she pointed to the shaggy, golden wolf smashing a fence. “There’s you.” The wolf nodded. She moved her claw to a golden cat in white armor with a sword in the background. “And there’s me.” The wolf nodded again. Her friend smiled. “We should smash stuff together more often. It’s fun.”  
  
Her face stretched back in a yawn. The wolf bounded over to the door on left, again gesturing her to enter. Her nest was in the warmest part of the den. It wasn’t much, the wolf recognized. Catra deserved more, but this was the best she could offer. Her nest was mostly lightly glowing moss she had scavenged from the woods. Her old uniform was bundled into a makeshift pillow. The only creature comfort was a wool Army blanket Catra had stolen from a forgotten, dusty corner of the Brightmoon Armory.  
  
Adora stood on her hind legs, picked up the blanket, and offered it and the nest to Catra. The wolf would keep watch outside. She didn’t mind.  
  
Catra shuddered as she passed through the doorway. Miles away, the disc had been shattered. She looked around, confused. “Where— How— I—“ she looked at the wolf. She sighed. “We really shouldn’t have left that disc with Entrapta.”  
  
The wolf whined. She must have done something wrong. Why else was Catra suddenly distressed?  
  
Catra smiled sadly. “We have got to stop meeting like this.” She walked over, gently took the blanket from her paws, and wrapped it around her shoulders. The wolf knelt down so that they were eye-to-eye. Catra blinked slowly in response. More trust. Doubt rushed in. The wolf panicked. Catra shouldn’t be trusting her. _I’ll just hurt her again. I should leave. I should run. I should—_  
  
Catra silenced her spiraling by wrapping her arms around the wolf’s neck. She froze. Afraid to move. Afraid to do something wrong again; to make the hug stop; to make her want to leave again. Catra’s tail snaked around her wrist, pulling it up. Hesitantly, the wolf lifted a paw and draped it around her shoulders. When no higher power struck her down for daring to do so, she added her other arm.  
  
“It’s ok, Adora,” Catra whispered. “I missed you, too.” The wolf pulsed her shoulder four times, wondering if she remembered what that meant. The pair could have stayed there forever, as far as the wolf was concerned. For a few blissful minutes, all the voices snapping in the back of her mind vanished like mist before the sunrise on a fall morning. Adora could just . . . exist — without any guilt, or regret, or self-loathing. It didn’t last, of course, but she held on to the feeling as long as she could.  
  
“We have to some sleep, dork,” she murmured. “We have a lot to talk about tomorrow.” The wolf whined. “No, the last time I that disc zapped me I was out cold for half a day,” she insisted, pulling away. “Sleep first.” She gestured to the wolf, the ruins around them, and herself. “All this later, ok?” The wolf nodded. “Great,” her grin spread warmly as she gestured to the nest. The wolf backed away.  
  
“Look,” Catra groaned. “I know you think this place is fine, but it’s freezing in here, and I need the best space heater in the Fright Zone. So,” she pointed again. “Hop in.”  
  
After some wordless negotiations, the wolf ended up lying on her back, her friend nestled with the blanket on top of her. Even though she asked her to sleep, the wolf maintained a vigil hours after Catra started lightly snoring. She couldn’t bring herself to relax until she cautiously put a paw on her back and held her close, and when in response, Catra started purring.  
  
In the morning, they would both retreat again — the wolf behind her walls and woods, and the cat behind her sharp tongue. This was the first time in over a year either had let herself be so vulnerable; and it would be the last for several years to come. But for one night, they let those barriers down for each other.  
  
And for one night among many in the war, they both slept well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope I didn't make you wait too long for the Part 2. I had tons of fun writing this. If you had fun reading it, please leave a kudos or a comment. Every one of them makes my day.
> 
> I played around a lot with POV and perception in this chapter, so any feedback on how that flowed would be very helpful. Of course, comments of all kinds are greatly appreciated. They make me want to write more of this AU.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year! 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading. If you enjoyed this chapter, consider leaving a kudos, or even a comment if you have the time. I’d appreciate feedback of all kinds (flow, dialogue, pacing, world building) the whole shabang - positive, negative, and mixed alike. I'd also like to know if the rating is appropriate. I think it is because there's no swearing or adult situations, but if the violence pushes it over to the T level (or should be tagged with Graphic Depictions of Violence), let me know. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has commented on this series so far. Your feedback helps me grow as a writer and motivates me to keep adding to this AU.
> 
> This one got a little long, and I decided it would work better as a two-parter. Next time — I promise you, readers — there will be drama, action, and HUGS.
> 
> Edit: Thank you to Adipose1913 for advice on improving the flashback scene.


End file.
